


Deep Under

by uxseven (ignemferam)



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 30dayfic, Alternate Universe, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3163205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignemferam/pseuds/uxseven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This life was so far from what Steve'd ever thought of how his life would be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine and I do not make profits of any sort by writing what my active imagination has come up with.
> 
>  **Author's Notes:**  
>  \- Written for the [30 Day Fic](http://30dayfic.tumblr.com/) Challenge.  
> \- Not beta'd. All errors are my faults.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was counting as the seconds passed.

Colin Matthews: 43 year-old male Caucasian, 5'11", 190lbs, medium build while a little pudgy around the middle, divorced, accountant of Michaels Import/Export Limited.

Matthews was a heavy weight eagerly moving on top. While the soft hair on his round stomach wasn't at all unpleasant, it wasn't exactly heaven rubbing on Steve's exposed cock. But it was Steve's job to sell that idea. So he threw his head back with eyes shut, recalling the memories of a lithe supple body, of a certain lieutenant he used to fuck, moving against him to keep his own cock hard. With hands against the headboard he pushed back eagerly as if he couldn't get enough, letting breathy grunts stuttered out of his slightly parted lips like he was edging closer and closer. It was nothing but a performance - something he was getting very good at considering the control he had over his physique. His body lied well for him as he idly counting the seconds passing inside his head.

It seemed to be precisely what Matthews craved - proof of his masculinity. Few moments later he was already shuddering his orgasm before he dropped like a dead weight on top of Steve and softening cock slipped out.

It had been a little under four minutes since Matthews pushed into Steve's underprepared body. He was going to be sore later but Steve counted it as a win. Matthews was an okay client - wanting it a little rough was a lot better than what some of his other clients asked for - but the less time Steve had to spend out of his clothes the better.

Steve climbed out of the bed after toppling Matthews over onto his back, and headed into the bathroom to clean himself up. With a towel wrapped low around his waist he stepped out of the bathroom leaning against the doorjamb to watch the still panting figure on the bed. He knew how he looked and wasn't ashamed to use it to his full advantage. His chiseled face, toned body, and the tattoos hinting something dangerous were the main draw for his clients. And client retention is essential in the business. He would be foolish not to make the most of it.

"Same time next week?"


	2. Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Water always brought him peace.

First thing Steve did was to turn the temperature of his beloved programmable shower head to the highest he could take, and then adjusted the water pressure to the massage setting. With his back turned to the jets and his hands on either side of the shower stall, he let the water aim at the bunched up muscles on his shoulders. As the water cascaded from his broad shoulders down the expanse of his back, converging between the cleft of his ass, before continuing further along his thighs and calves, finally spiraling down the drain, his bone-deep exhaustion trickled away with it. Little by little, he felt human again.

Water always brought him peace.

His internal clock ticked one minute signaling the end to the only luxury he allowed himself. Even if the shower installation had probably costed him three times as much everything else in his apartment put together, one minute a day was all he would indulge. With economic moves, he lathered up and scrubbed himself clean with almost punishing strokes. Even his tan couldn’t completely hide the tint of red rawness after rinsing off. It was okay because it would fade overnight, and any client having their paws all over him wouldn’t know any better. It was generally a very bad idea to mar the merchandise but then his clients seemed to like his scars, so maybe it would work on him.

Anyway, this was Monday and Tuesday was his day off. A little red on his skin wasn’t going to harm business.

Sliding open the shower door, the steam escaped into the bathroom like wildfire. He pulled a towel from the rack without looking and started to dry off with practiced efficiency. Not a minute away from the water, he already yearned to be close again.

The steam spread the moment he stepped out of the bathroom and quickly dissipated like it was never there. Pausing for a second to contemplate, he knew what he needed to do.

\---

It was almost an hour later when he reached Coney Island Light. The surroundings might be vastly different from his memories, but being there satiated his cravings and things became a tad more bearable.

The sun felt wrong in the city. The water was too cold to swim in on this side of the country, and this wasn't his ocean. But it was the ocean nevertheless. If he hadn’t got his sun or his ocean, at the very least he could find a shred of familiarity there so close to the water.

He felt like if he dived into the water, the ocean would return him home.

The repetitive sound of water crushing the shore washed away all the noises in his head and he was reminded why he was here and what he was doing. _Just held on a while longer_ , his inner voice told him.

He could go home soon, when his job here was done.


	3. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the Palm trees sealed the deal.

Not for the first time Steve surprised himself how different a man he had changed into. Instead of half frantically moving from doing one thing to another barely stopping in between, he was now accustomed to spend two - sometimes even three - hours sipping his tea in this little diner when he wasn’t working. The place was usually quiet and customers sparse in the late hours of weekday afternoons, and it had quickly became a habit of his to linger around once he discovered the swimming pool across the street. Naturally, he saw to it his already vigorous training regime gained some more than necessary laps around the pool.

He could list more than a few reasons why Saul's Palm Diner earned his frequent patronage. It could be the malnourished Palm trees Saul planted outside the eatery, or the numerous Elvis memorabilia decorating the establishment walls and his songs constantly playing through the speakers, even though the food was nothing to write home about. People usually linked the King to Vegas, but Steve was always reminded of Hawaii by his voice. Especially when _Blue Hawaii_ came on.

And the Palm trees sealed the deal.

\---

_What the..._

Danny would never admit he was jaded at the young age of 34 but not a lot can stop him dead in his track nowadays. The pair of rangy Palm trees did the trick though. Not because they were rare in the area, but because they simply were too skinny in stark contrast to the luscious foliage across in Lafayette Park. Even with the obvious relation to the diner's name, he reckoned a cartoon tree drawn on the entrance door might be a better fit for promoting the place.

_Maybe a coffee is in order. This place may not look much but the coffee can't be any worse than that at the precinct. Right?_

His car was parked around the corner on Maple, and the advance swimming class his ex-wife insisted on his precious monkey taking wouldn't let out for at least an hour, coffee in a seemingly decent diner was a much better prospect than being holed up in his car. More so if said car's air conditioning was broken and he hadn't had the time to get it fixed. The fact that it was 90 degrees after sunset made up his mind for him.

Danny was used to the heat, but he wasn't stupid or insecure with needs to prove his manliness to anyone. And more importantly no one was watching.

He sincerely hoped the coffee turned out to be good and the food better than eatable, because if Rachel continued to send Grace to swimming lessons he could be spending a lot of time at Saul's Palm Diner.

\---

"Hey! I know you."


	4. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Steve, it was all about the eyes.

If anybody ever claimed appearance didn’t factor into how they chose their better half, it would be a blatant lie. While the definition of beauty varied from one person to another, everyone sought aesthetic pleasing qualities compliant to their own liking.

For Steve, it was all about the eyes.

Of course he had preferences for other attributes - physical or otherwise - but these were merely good-to-haves. The only must-have was eyes that caught his. It didn't matter if they were as clear as if he was able to stare into the person's soul or as dark as he might lose himself in the depth of them, eyes were the most important to him.

Kai Mahealani was the football team’s starting halfback in Steve's high school, and also Steve’s best friend at 16. Under the right combination of light and viewing angle, Kai’s light grey eyes could appear almost silver with a glint of blue much like the full moon as suggested by his name. In the midst of their conversations Steve sometimes fell into a trance just silently staring into those eyes. "You’re being weird, Steven. If you keep this up, you’ll never get a girlfriend," Kai would grumble something similar with an amused grin whenever that happened.

Nora Sherman dated Steve for a short time when he was a second class midshipmen in Annapolis. He couldn't remember much about her except that some of his classmates constantly teased him of her freckled face and flat chest. However two things about her would never be forgotten - the kind smile she bestowed upon him and the partial heterochromia she had.

Brenda D'Souza was the CFO of a modeling agency. Of all Steve's clients, she had the most expressive eyes. He only needed to look into her eyes and he would instantly know the time to switch from gentle push to hard thrust, to shift gear from shallow to deep, and to pick up the pace and wrap up the engagement with a thoroughly satisfied customer. She also had the saddest pair of eyes he had ever come across, and he knew unequivocally it wasn't just sweat gliding down from the corner of her eyes when they were done.

\---

The man standing in front of Steve was short - at least half a foot shorter than Steve - with slicked back blond hair, dressed in a meticulously tailored shirt unashamedly showing off wide shoulders and a trim waist. His tie was loosen swaying in front of a few undone buttons. He walked with a swagger announcing he was either a cop or a mobster. The slight dent in his belt near the buckle gave Steve confirmation it was the former.

And the blond had a pair of amazing piercing blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, i couldn't resist to drag this one out a little bit longer. :X


	5. Belief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey! I know you."

"Hey! I know you."

Steve started at the words spoken precariously close to him, surprised that he was uncharacteristically deep in thoughts and lost track of his surroundings. Quickly he refocused, but the pair of blue eyes smiling at him derailed what he was about to say in response.

Perhaps it was the confusion written on his face, the man in front of him grinned sheepishly and elaborated, "I mean, I recognize you. The week before, you worked the orphanage fundraiser for the mayor, right? M-Sec Private Security, if I remember correctly."

"Uh, yes." Nodding, Steve remembered his cover - more precisely his employer's convincing cover. "I, uh, was assigned to the mayor sometimes."

Tobias Liberman was a widower with three teenage children, who had a calendar so packed he hadn't got time to date and a career so public he wouldn't risk his reelection by dating men. Public speaking stressed him. As mayor, he would occasionally hire a bodyguard when attending public functions. A little _decompressing_ before and after those events greatly helped the mayor's public image.

"Danny Williams, Newark PD," spoke the blond man proffering his right hand which Steve accepted.

"Steve McGarrett." Steve returned the handshake without getting up. It wasn't that sort of formal meeting.

"We vetted four different private security firms for that event and I was on site because there wasn't enough manpower with just the uniforms. I'm actually from homicide," Danny explained while flagging down a waitress for a cup of coffee before sliding into the seat opposite to Steve in the booth.

Sitting in silent, Steve blinked bewilderedly at the stranger making himself at home across the table from him, when Steve's table was the only occupied one in the whole diner. Then Danny looked up at Steve with a scrutinizing intensity like he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult puzzle. And Steve just stared back not backing down, feeling confident that the cop would never find out what he actually did for the mayor.

Or more precisely, what the mayor did to him.

"Private security pays well?" Danny asked suddenly.

With a shrug, Steve halfheartedly agreed, "It's okay."

"Yeah? It's too bad your company pretty much only hires ex-military guys. Right? So what are you? You don't look Army," Danny started ticking off with his fingers. "You don't seem to be too brain damaged to be Marines. And you certainly don't act cocky enough to be a flyboy. You Navy?"

Steve shrugged again, nonchalantly answered, "I was a SEAL."

"A SEAL! He says it like it's nothing special," Danny chuckled unamused. "No wonder the mayor hired you."

Steve was pretty sure Liberman picked him for his distinct lack of gag reflex and how realistically he begged to be fucked. But Danny didn't need to, and should never, find out about that. After all, even if he said he wasn't in Vice, he was still a cop.

"You interested in joining the private sector?" Steve mused, attempting to figure out where Danny's heading to with this conversation.

"Doesn't hurt to know what's out there," Danny waved a hand gesturing at the window. "I love being a cop but alimony and child support take a large chunk out of my measly salary. Don't get me wrong, I would give everything I have and then some for my little girl. Sometimes - most of the times - it seems like what I'm making isn't enough."

There was so much unexpected honesty in those few sentences, Steve could do nothing but nod.

Danny took a break from the conversation and put two sugar and one cream into his slowly cooling coffee and began stirring. For two practical strangers the silence was oddly not unpleasant and none of them felt like breaking it.

For three minutes until Danny started again.

\---

"Are you stalking me now?" Steve asked in a mostly amused tune, a week later when Danny stepped into the diner and headed straight to Steve's booth.

"What? This is my one weekday night with my little girl," spluttered Danny indignantly. "She's taking swimming lesson across the street because her mother thinks she needs to be better. So I have an hour to kill before the class is out, and as I can recall, you aren't too bad a grunt to spend time with."

Ignoring the jab about being in the Army when Steve was certain Danny hadn't forgotten it was the Navy he served in, he asked, "Lafayette Pool?"

"Yeah, that's the place," Danny replied, sounding curious.

"I swim there on my off days, then come here." The words were out of his mouth before he realized, because voluntarily giving up information wasn't something he did. Ever.

"The coffee here is worse than the sludge at my precinct," Danny commented in a hushed tone when the waitress was back in her chair behind the counter.

"That's why I'm having tea," Steve paused for a beat before adding, "Cops can tell the difference between good and bad coffee?"

Danny's glare was a little comical. Maybe Steve shouldn't find it as entertaining and enduring. This was a distraction for him but Steve found no desire in him to stop.

Steve never believed in fate. If he ever believed in anything it would be his ability in achieving his goals. When he started this life he put a shelf life on it. As soon as he got what he needed, it would end. Keeping his target in sight, there wasn't going to be any distraction. Not to get comfortable in the situation made it easier getting in and out, like how his apartment was bare and impersonal. No emotional entanglement allowed like friendship - or worse, romantic involvement - with anybody either because emotions weighed you down. It was this belief that got him through BUD/s and then later numerous missions.

Right that moment Steve felt his goal started to drift out of his sights, because obviously he had never met anybody as distracting as Danny Williams.

"Tea always reminds me of my ex-wife. I'm telling you, it wasn't a good place to go to nowadays," Danny warned, but only halfheartedly.

Steve ignored the alarms going off in his head and teased, "I like her already."

"You're a horrible friend, babe." The exaggerated hurt expression on Danny's face wasn't untruthful and it made Steve feel a bit bad. But only a bit.

"We are friends now?" Steve asked with eyebrows raised.

"Asshole," grumbled Danny. But the corners of his eyes crinkled a little and he was smiling.

Steve felt his goal drifting further away.

\---

Two weeks later Danny sat down across from Steve and immediately complained, "Hey, you weren't here last Tuesday."

Shrugging slightly, Steve muttered, "Yeah, got booked for a special event." The lying came easily, but when directed to Danny they tied Steve's stomach up in knots.

"Big client? Do you guys get tips?" Danny asked genuinely interested.

They hadn't talked much about work except for the minutes they met, and Steve was grateful. He had a feeling he wouldn't be able to keep the lies up, not because he couldn't but because he didn't want to. And it was a monumentally stupid idea to come clean to a cop that he was one of a platoon of high-priced escorts masquerading as privacy security specialists. This topic of conversation needed to be nipped at the bud.

"No tips, but 40 percent on top if it's on our off days," Steve sighed. "Can we not talk about work? Please?"

Danny looked discomfited for a second but he nodded. Steve was sure Danny had work experiences he too didn't want to talk about, and Steve was more than willing to deter Danny with the impression that Steve was in a similar situation.

"Anyway, how's Grace?"

\---

It was the fifth week since Danny first barged into Steve's life at the quiet diner, and he caught himself keep glancing at the front door awaiting anxiously the arrival of his new friend. His well trusted modus operandi was unceremoniously thrown out of the proverbial window by an exponentially growing desire to spend an hour shooting the shit with a loudmouth blond.

Steve couldn't see his goal any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my sincere apologies that this comes late. i'll catch up with the Day 6 word soon, i promise!


	6. Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kennedy is dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i apologize for the delay. i'll try to catch up as best as i can.

"Kennedy is dead."

"What? What the hell happened?"

"When I got here and he's already bleed out. A guy charged at me but I subdued him."

"Damn it. I'll send Nick. You called the cops?"

"Yeah. They should be here soon."

"Speak carefully."

\---

Maybe it was a standard procedure, but Steve's dad never got into details of how it was done, so Steve wasn't sure everyone got thrown into a room sitting on their hands before questioning or they did him because he insisted on waiting for a representative from his security firm before talking.

Patrick Kennedy worked as a music producer. On his nights, he took Steve out to some clubs and pick up a third person for his little game. Gender didn't matter, Kennedy wasn't picky in that aspect but he did have a slight preference to guys in their mid to late 20's. After some three-way foreplay, he would sit back and jerk off to Steve fucking whoever they picked up. How Steve went about it, Kennedy again wasn't too concerned except that Steve had to get the other person to come and it had to last at least half an hour. Kennedy would be a satisfied customer once he shot his load all over Steve's back after the fucking was done.

While Steve wouldn't mind losing Kennedy as a client, though getting stabbed to death probably wasn't a fate Steve thought Kennedy deserved.

\---

"Mr. Kennedy liked to check out the club scene in the city, saying it benefited his work. He hired our firm, sometimes me, when he wanted to go to some less pleasant neighborhoods, like tonight. I was to meet him at his place at 9 and when I arrived the front door was ajar. I went just inside the door and called out. After calling for a couple of times with no response, I headed to his bedroom and was rushed by an unknown man. My left upper arm got nicked by the knife in his right hand but I managed to grab hold of his wrist, twist it so he dropped the weapon. Then I knocked him unconscious before calling 911. I found a towel in the bathroom to tie the man up as I waited for the police to arrive."

\---

Steve had probably recounted the event for nine times or more - with additions with a few colorful choice words - before the detective in charge sent him and the representative from his firm out to wait in a corner of the bullpen.

He never once thought of Danny until he heard the now familiar voice.

"What the hell happened, Steven?"


	7. Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Danny, we're just acquaintances - strangers who don't know each other well. And because of that anonymity we can tell each other things which are difficult to tell to our own friends."

The room had a small podium before several rows of misaligned chairs, most likely to be used for group briefing. Steve tried to recall if his father ever mentioned if the room had a specific name but he came up empty. He contemplated if Danny would tell him.

Right that moment Danny was too busy pacing in front of the podium when Steve sat looking at him from one of the chairs.

"What the... Why the hell didn't you call me?" Danny paused, half yelling at Steve before continued on with his pacing.

Steve couldn't help but laughed a little, earning a death glare. "Really, Danny? We run into each other at the diner and keep each other company for an hour or so. And now I'm supposed to call you when I happen upon a crime at my job? I called 911 and cops were there to investigate. You aren't the only cop in Newark. You aren't even assigned to the case as far as I know." With the stunned look on Danny's face, Steve add, "And you know, I don't even have your number."

"I - uh - we are - We are friends. You get into trouble, you call your friend. Me!" To say Danny was miffed would be understating the obvious.

Knowing it would likely pissed Danny off more, Steve just shrugged. "I wasn't in any trouble," giving a glance the bandage on his arm, "It doesn't even need stitches. Besides, you should know better it's the police's job to question me as long as I'm involved. And I happened to be there and apprehended a suspect. What's the trouble in that?"

Danny spluttered. Their conversations had been casual until then, with a fair amount of friendly ribbing - and if Steve dared to dream some flirting. It was mildly entertaining to see him trying to come up with something to argue with Steve.

"Danny, we're just acquaintances - strangers who don't know each other well. And because of that anonymity we can tell each other things which are difficult to tell to our own friends. We aren't exactly the type of friends to call when we need help."

The words flowed from Steve but he knew they were meant for him instead. He was trying to convince himself to stop before this developed into a real friendship, something tangible to anchor him down. He needed to be able to just up and leave when the time eventually came.

Steve noticed the precise moment when Danny deflated like the full head of steam he was running on started to leak. The quickly masked dejected look didn't escape Steve's eyes.

"Yeah I guess you're right."

It wasn't an argument. Danny just stood there taking Steve's punches was more akin to the situation. Danny with his personality and gesturing, while short, should never look so small and at that moment Steve hated himself.

And Steve knew he wouldn't be able to resist the pull anymore.

"But if you insist." Steve pulled out his card and held it out for Danny.

Lifting his head, Danny looked at Steve confused.

"Here's my cell number. Maybe we can get to be friends that help each other?"


End file.
